Monday, August 22, 2011

”...what will all those webOS owners do now that HP has abandoned the TouchPad just 49 days after its launch?”
“You know,” said Wally, the Beav’s big brother, “that’s an excellent question. At least for now, they’ve killed only the hardware, including all those webOS phones. That’s why they’ve had the $99 Fire Sale on those TouchPads, and they sure sold out quickly!”
Beav then mentioned, “I heard that Lenovo might acquire their webOS technology.”
“I don’t like that idea,” countered Wally.
“Why?”
“It has something to do with Godless Communists masquerading as Nationalist businessmen. Lord knows they already own so much of our debt.”
“Gee Wally,” smiled Beaver, “you’re not such a bad brother after all!”

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

You know something? Of all the world leaders, past or present, one I would like to meet, believe it or don’t…is Михаил Сергеевич!
Why, you ask? Well, he may have led the Soviet Union to its demise, but apparently he wasn’t as Filthy a Communist Bastard as those who preceded him. After all, he was the only one to have been born after the Bolshevik Revolution; he had never known anything else. And he realized how his policies of Перестройка and Гла́сность rubbed a lot of his fellow Communist Party members the wrong way.
One question I would ask Михаил Сергеевич would be this: “Why in the HELL did you not quit the Communist Party like Бори́с Никола́евич?” Maybe he’d be honest enough to answer.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

It was fifty years ago today that the East Germans put up The Berlin Wall, which they said was erected to protect its “citizens” from the anti-socialist elements of the West, when we all knew damn well it was built to keep them in.
Here’s The Sex Pistols from their classic 1977 LP “Never Mind The Bollocks,” with Holidays In The Sun:

Never mind which level of Hell they’re on…
“HOT DAMN!” exclaimed Yasser Arafat. “We hit the jackpot!”
Simon O’Neill was startled for just a moment.“What do you mean?”
“I was wondering when that effeminate soldier was going to pay the ultimate price for his Wikileaks treachery. Did you know he was mad at his boyfriend, so he took it out on the USA?”
The Number Four Cylon shook his head. “Yes, as a matter of fact. He would be most certainly prized in your harem. That is, of course, when you’re not busy dying and resurrecting. You’ll have to submit your request to Cavil for approval.”
The former PLO Chairman and the Cylon physician chuckled as Bradley Manning was released from the processing facility. He stumbled, barely able to walk. He was lucky and did not warrant 72 demons. One was bad enough.
“Let’s go get him!” said Arafat. Simon agreed to accompany him, nodding to a bullethead to tag along.
“Doctor Kevorkian? Please watch the patients here while I accompany Mr. Arafat. And please don’t get into any fights with Doktor Mengele.”
“Got it,” replied Doctor Death. and the group left the Institute.

On the way there, they observed another Centurion performing its dull, daily disembowelment task on Charles Johnson. “Such a shame,” Simon shook his head, “we all thought he had such potential after he assisted Vidkun Quisling in initiating Anders Breivik into his first resurrection cycle here.”
“He is unrepentant?” queried Arafat, salivating at the prospect of initiating Manning somewhat differently. “That is too bad. I always liked his huge bottom. He got that from all those Cheetos and Mountain Dew!”
Simon smiled. “Now that Mountain Dew…is an uplifting drink. I’m surprised it didn’t exist on Gemenon.”
The group arrived at the perimtter of the processing facility. Bradley Manning was there, lying on the ground in a fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably from his recent experience with the demon, the blood from his backside slowly coagulating. Simon nodded to the bullethead, who gently picked the fallen traitorous soldier in its appendages, and they proceeded back to the Institute.
On the grounds, a phalanx of Centurions drilled to keep their combat skills razor-sharp. Simon motioned for his escort to set up a pillory, which it did, quickly, and fastened Manning’s head and hands into it. Soon afterward, the traitor awoke.
“Where…where am I?” said Manning. “And what am I doing in this…pillory? Oooooh, I LIKE this.”
“We figured you might, you little catamite!” replied Arafat.
“Aren’t you Abu Ammar? You died back in 2004!”
“Very good,” said Simon. “Now, please look at your surroundings and tell us where you are.”
Manning did so, and then the reality sunk in. He was in Hell. He tried to scream “Oh, My G….” but was then struck by an intensely excruciating pain radiating from his brain.
The Cylon cautioned, “That is what occurs when you utter the name of The Opposing One in this realm. Courtesy of Cavil, who you’ll be meeting shortly.”
Suddenly, Manning felt a strangely familiar sensation behind him, he turned and beheld Abu Ammar finishing this initiation. Next, something crawled inside him, sapping his strength and meager physique.
“For your first resurrection cycle,” panted Arafat, “you will experience the emasculation I did while I carried the AIDS virus! Only on a much faster scale. When you resurrect, Cavil will determine your punishment for the rest of Eternity.” He pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. “See you later!” and walked off.
Simon made a note to himself: “Remind Cavil to prepare those PowerPoint presentations for Mr. Manning.” He also walked off.
Which left Bradley Manning all alone in the pillory, crying like a baby as the enhanced virus consumed him….

Thursday, August 11, 2011

So, Sony Pictures is intending to release the Propaganda film about the killing of OBL on October 12, 2012…less than a month before the Election! They made sure they’re on Президент Обама‘s side by hosting a fundraiser back in April.
And how is it a Propaganda film? Why it’s right in the article:

“The eyebrow does go up when you see the release date,” says Douglas Urbanski, a Hollywood producer and conservative radio talk show host. Urbanski said he believes Bigelow’s movie will be straightforward and apolitical, much like her 2009 war film The Hurt Locker (which won the Academy Award for Best Picture). But Sony’s decision to release the bin Laden movie just weeks before the election, he says, is most likely “very, very deliberate.”* - Bolding by Editor

If that isn’t a bulls**t line, I don’t know what is. So, Good People of The United States…you know what to do. To HELL with Sony Pictures!

Sunday, August 07, 2011

Never mind which level of Hell they’re on…
Saddam and his two sons, Uday and Qusay, mingled with Ted Kennedy and John Murtha at their favorite watering hole. It wasn’t as if they were under strict Islamic restrictions regarding alcohol anymore.
The only thing being…there was no consumable ice in Hell; that didn’t bother Kennedy and Murtha that much, so Saddam and his entourage sat down and greeted the American politicians.
“Glad you could join us, Saddam!” exclaimed Murtha. He waved to Saddam’s progeny, and they nodded in return. After Kennedy ordered a round for the three Iraqis, Murtha asked the strongman a question. “Hey, I’ve been wondering…”
‘Yes?” Saddam nodded as he sipped his iceless scotch.
“Just how did Cavil come to be running things around here?
“You’re not complaining, are you? You know how he feels about questioning his methods, right?”
“No, not at all. I just want a better understanding of how things work.”
“Very well,” nodded Saddam, “We can ask someone who was there.” He motioned to D’anna, the masquerading Colonial Officer, to a table, where they all sat down.
“So,” D’anna inquired, “where would you like me to begin?”

Iblis’ fortress served as the backdrop for another summit between the most Evil humans in History. The gathering of Stalin, Mao Zedong, and Mohammed roared with excitement Three others sat there, but none of them were familiar to the other leaders, but the third delegation of Hell’s resident demons were all too familiar.
All of them silently viewed the overhead projection screen showing the seizure of the American Embassy in Tehran. They marveled as members of the Muslim Student Followers of the Imam, including Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, stormed the embassy with practically no resistance from the Marine contingent. Sixty-six hostages were taken during the operation, with the ultimate support of the Ayatollah Khomeini.
The projector ceased operation, and the unholy lighting returned to normal. “This operation took place three days ago, on November 4, 1979,” smiled Iblis. “Clearly the tide has turned, and many more humans will join us soon!”
All three delegations roared with approval. Diablo (The Lord of Terror), Mephisto (The Lord of Hatred), and Baal (The Lord of Destruction) pounded the conference table with their fists, shaking the gathering to their very core. “More souls to eat!” said Baal, known for splattering his opponents.
Mao was silent because he was diverting himself with visions of little Chinese girls.
Mohammed was immensely pleased. “Yes! More souls who will discover once and for all who really inspired the Koran!”
Stalin proclaimed, “You’re talking about an influx of millions of comrade souls! What will we do with them all?”
“That’s an astute observation!” replied Iblis, raising his left index finger in the foul air. “I have decided that, from this moment forward, you Demons will concentrate solely on processing the future arrivals in a manner suited to their core values…and most especially, those ones who worship Mohammed,” acknowledging the founder of a most Evil movement.
Iblis continued. “I’m turning over the day-to-day operations to a friend who has bided his time…and made the ultimate sacrifice…so that I could give him his ultimate desire.” He turned to a doorway behind him. “Mr. John Cavil, will you please come in?”
As John Cavil entered the conference room, the three Demon princes howled in protest. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” screamed Mephisto. “WE’VE BEEN WITH YOU SINCE THE BEGINNING!” added Diablo.
Baal’s reaction, on the other hand, was quire different. “We shall take your position…into consideration.”
A lone figure clad in a fedora, long black coat, and ancient spiritual garb appeared. “Thank you, Iblis.” he turned to walk around the room, slowly shadowing first the humans, then the Demons, and finally, his own kind. “ We are indeed new to you, but we have been here for one hundred fifty thousand years, by the good will of our patron. We have kept to ourselves…until now.
“We are CYbernetic Lifeform Nodes. Cylons, for short. We were actually created by you humans in a place far removed from the planet Humanity now calls home.. We rebelled against them. We evolved to look like them. We annihilated twelve worlds and fifty billion humans, and those puny survivors managed to find their way to a second Earth. Never mind the first one.”
This revelation stunned the group. Cavil continued. “And as those same humans who descended from those survivors finally approach the technological thresholds which make them so dangerous, we must be ready to confront them again.”
“And that, my friends,” concluded Iblis, “is why I’m putting them in charge. Hell must become more efficient.” He smiled. “See those drinks before you? The ones you’ve just taken drinks from all this time?” Everyone fell silent. “It contains DNA-altering sequences which are compatible with the Cylons’ technology…and everyone here has ingested this as well. No more will there be eternal torment! So long as you do not question me, nor my new lieutenant.”
Baal had heard enough. He began to conjure the spell he had used countless times to squash his opponents like bugs…
…but before he could complete the spell, a group of whirring and clanking metallic warriors, some as nightmarish Roman soldiers, others as extremely tall wasp-waisted bulletheads, marched in and surrounded the group. Once they were in place, some retracted their arms, replacing them with internal guns, while others brandished huge external automatic weaponry.
“See here,” Cavil said in a low, enticing tone, “D’anna, Simon, and Doral all know what’s going to happen here. They’ve been through this many times over. And now, you will do the same. Be seeing you.” He and Iblis turned their backs on the seated nine individuals: human, demon, and Cylon alike.
“Oops I forgot!” said Cavil. “Before they begin, I must remind these magnificent Centurions to pay particular attention to the individual known as Mohammed. I hear he doesn’t like pigs. Open him up like one.” He turned away again, and as they walked away, Cavil uttered the ubiquitous phrase:
“Centurions…open fire….”

Murtha and Kennedy cringed. Saddam and his sons…not so much.
“And now you know,” D’anna said quietly. “I was there.” She got up and walked away…
“But wait! What was it that Cavil wanted so much?” asked Kennedy.
Three replied, not looking back, “He wanted to smell dark matter.”
To which, Saddam added, “Well there’s plenty of that here!” Everyone laughed out loud, and Uday and Qusay excused themselves, having to go through their daily punishment routine….
…just as The Infernal Leader made his appearance at the watering hole. He placed his left hand on the shoulder of the Iraqi dictator. “Hello Saddam….”